Chains

Somewhere inside, deep inside, there is a heart that bleeds. A smallish heart, though others misperceive it as otherwise. A crippled heart, scarred and battered by self-inflicted wounds. A selfish heart, clothed in good intentions and false expectations both. It is not what it seems, no matter how it tries to be. It resides somewhere lost, hidden and locked away, buried deep within the barren earth. Kept safe from inadvertent harm.

But not from harm by intent.

Emotional scars are easier to hide, and the wounds of the heart never heal. Not even the ones you cause yourself.

Sometimes I miss the coldness. The armor of detachment. The empowerment of despair. Sometimes I wish I could bury myself in it, be possessed by it fully. Embrace the cold uncaring wind, to cast myself off the ledge at long last, and be free.

Can you fear the very freedom you seek? Can you face the darkness of the unknown, unflinchingly? Flicking the switch of conscience and consciousness in one fell swoop?

Blasted, wretched warmth. Cursing my existence. Casting light on the shadows I long to hide in. At times, I think I would do well to be rid of it.

At times, I would give much to be free of the chains that bind. If only to stop the pain.